Memoirs of a Theorist
by pandrake
Summary: Forget what you know about the FNaF comedy genre. Here, you're a theorist. You're one hardcore theorist who wants to know the truth to everything about Five Nights At Freddy's, and you know who to talk to for the cold, bloody truth. In fact, it's not everything we thought. (Don't take everything seriously here)


Memoirs of a Theorist:

You walk into the room with nervous determination as you prepare yourself to face the greatest mystifier of all time – Ehem, you know who I'm talking about, the one who weaved horror gaming history's biggest murder mystery – and, you are about to meet him in person.

Every step toward that dreaded desk is a nightmare ready to bounce at you, because you know everything you once established and believed is going to be torn down, right here, right now. You stand inches away from the desk, and wait for that chair to turn around.

"Turn around," you mutter. "Turn. Around."

But you know someone like Scott Cawthon isn't going to easily turn around and greet you happily with a nice cup of tea. He won't turn until you get extra frantic. You know Scott as a person. He's a mastermind, a genius, and he's not going let any of your theories easily pass through the sieve.

Then, the chair...moves.

You expect the one on the chair to be Scott Cawthon holding his precious lavender animatronic bunny in his arms and sit in a pose respective of "The Godfather" and greeting you with a viciously calm "Hi."

But you were wrong. That instant theory of yours did not pass through the sieve. Instead, you are greeted by a charismatic black man sitting with his hands and legs crossed. A gold bunny rests happily on his lap. He greets you with a slight smile.

"Hello." He says.

You gape. "What? But I thought the one sitting on the chair was Scott Cawthon, not—"

"—I know. However, I AM Scott Cawthon. This is just my true form."

"What?"

"I am Morgan Freeman."

You are dumbstruck. Scott Cawthon is Morgan Freeman confirmed.

"But, how can you work on Five Night's at Freddy's while pursuing your entertainment career?" You ask sceptically. You know someone as active and busy as Morgan Freeman has no time for games, let alone making games. Logically makes no sense.

"I am superhuman." He proclaims. "I am capable of what the average human cannot."

Then, something clicks inside your head.

You know the Shadow mascots, Shadow Bonnie and Shadow Freddy. They're like ghosts, they come and go. They're time-travelling entities, they go wherever and whenever they want. Build or destroy, it's their choice. And, you can't stop them.

Scott Cawthon is Morgan Freeman. Morgan Freeman is superhuman, and the Shadow mascots are beyond the physical plane...you click your fingers.

You look up to Sc — I mean, ehem, Morgan Freeman.

"I know what Shadow Bonnie and Shadow Freddy are." You say.

Morgan Freeman raises a brow in interest. "Yes?"

You dramatically point your index finger at Morgan Freeman. "They are entities materialized from your superhuman capabilities!"

Morgan Freeman smirks. "How? Elaborate."

"The Shadow Mascots can freely teleport through time and space." You begin. "They're not real animatronics! They're definitely something beyond the physical plane! Also adding the fact you yourself is superhuman, you must have more than one or more planes to express yourself other than the mortal Phone Guy!"

Morgan Freeman tilts his head. "And your point is?"

"They're expressions of yourself. They're self inserts."

Morgan Freeman lets out a chuckle.

Then, a slight laugh.

Then, it emerges into a full-fledged laugh incorporated with clapping.

"Well done!" He exclaims. "Well played, son!"

You look at him anxiously, hoping to the heavens that THAT (somewhat ridiculous) theory of yours is right. But, it was ridiculous. How can the Shadow Mascots be self-inserts? You think to yourself.

Well, you have no idea how you churned out that theory either.

"Well," began Morgan Freeman.

You gulp. Your mind races at 150mph.

_Please tell me I'm right, please tell me I'm right, please tell me I'm right, please—_

"Interesting theory." Says Morgan Freeman.

You feel a cold sensation running down your spine.

"Am...am I right?" You ask.

He turns away from you.

"I don't wish to give away answers yet."

You stand there like you're glued to the floor. You were _wrong_.


End file.
